No vacation is long enough

Dear Readers,

Have you ever spent two weeks not blogging, but thinking about your big back-to-blog post? And then the two weeks were up, and suddenly you couldn't think of anything to write about, except maybe a long diatribe about your daughter's unique poop scent? (Think fermented peaches.) But then you remembered that moms are more than their children's excrement, so you couldn't think of anything substantial to write?

Well, if you did, then you are Mrs. Dub. (Except your name isn't really Mrs. Dub; it's a name that starts with Q. Except that it doesn't, but it is in the same alphabet.)

Anyway, such is my life. My vacay was really cool and probably needs some adjective like "fantabalicious" or "hardcore, extreme violence," minus the violence part, with lots of relaxation and fun for good measure.

I love the beach. I want to marry the beach. I just became a minister online so that we can live together until death do us part - at which point I hope heaven is filled with beaches.

I also love my sister, family and bestie who hosted me on my long-winded journey from the OC to camping in Carlsbad to some Arizona-loving.

Am I still typing? I think I am, but there's no way to confirm it.

Anyway, I hope to be back in best blogging form tomorrow. Until then, check out my cute daughter, whose poop smells like fermented peaches.

Love to all!
Mrs. Dub

Funny face

See you in a few weeks!

HTT - Emily Edition

When my SIL, Emily, offered to take over Hot Topic Tuesday for me, I couldn't refuse. First, we're not sleeping much at our house these days because apparently you can get roseola twice. Second, Emily is selling her house and whether or not you live in Rhode Island, you MUST BUY IT! Third, she is the witty author of Acte Gratuit, which is a French phrase that no one can pronounce. No one. So without further ado, let's turn up the heat:

Mrs. Dub was generous enough to let me borrow her blog today so I could do a little venting and maybe get some helpful advice. Two weeks ago, her hot topic dealt with “Mom mistakes” and it got me thinking about the problem in a different way. What if you are a witness of “Bad Mom behavior” or just any bad behavior in general. When do you intervene?

There are times when I see a mom yelling at her kid in the grocery store that I want to walk up, make a citizens arrest and take immediate custody of her child. (If you ever see me at the store and I’m the mom yelling, please take custody of my children! I could use the break!)

But for the most part I walk the other way and do nothing.

So I’m going to share three stories with you and then I want you to tell me what you would have done. Here goes:

#1 A mom is sitting in her car, in a parking lot, waiting for her baby to wake up so they can join the rest of the family at the beach. She has her windows down and watches and listens as a man and little girl start loading up in a nearby car. The little girl is probably 5 and has done something to seriously upset the man. He is yelling at her, berating her, threatening her, telling her that her mom isn’t worth “this aggravation” and he’s ready to “get the ____ out”. His verbal abuse is so bad, it leaves the eavesdropping mom to suspect much more serious abuse at home. The little girl's Mom makes it back to the car, listens to the mans vitriol, and sheepishly gets in the car with out a word in her daughter's or her own defense.

#2 Three days a week, a woman drives up to the local preschool to drop-off and pick-up her three-year-old. She leaves her other two children, a sleeping baby and a six-year-old, in the running car. The walk up to the school is a little long, and she cannot see the car once she’s inside the preschool.

#3 A neighbor notices something amiss with one of the families in the neighborhood. The four kids never seem to be in school and are always running around with bare feet. Not only that, the mom is pregnant again with number five!!!

Here’s what happened next:

#1. I was the mom in the car. I sat there listening to this big jerk feeling totally helpless. I wanted to get out and yell at him, but since I’m a total weakling, I had to consider my safety and the safety of my baby. I thought about calling the cops, but figured they wouldn’t be able to do anything. “Officer, that man was YELLING! Take him away!!!” I even thought about writing down his license plate so I could track him down and figure out a way to report him to CPS. But ultimately I did nothing and still feel horrible that I didn’t find a way to help that innocent little girl.

#2. Once again, I’m the mom in the car. Or at least, the mom that left her kids in the car. Here was my thinking: “Six is pretty old! Surely Max can keep an eye on Gabe who is safely buckled into his car seat and isn’t going anywhere. I’ll leave the car on so they don’t get too hot (or cold). There are so many moms around, nothing is going to happen to them! My mom used to leave me in the car to run into the store all the time. Max is old enough that if someone tried to get in, he could lay on the horn.”

Yes, that was almost a whole paragraph of self-justification and yes, when I type it out, it does sound lame even to me. Which is why I totally deserved what happened next.

A few weeks into the school year, I got an e-mail from a good friend who took her daughter to the same school. She said she’d been really upset by seeing me leave the kids in the car, that it was dangerous and illegal in some states. She gave me some examples of the horrible things that could happen, offered to sit with my kids if I really couldn’t manage by myself and begged me to forgive her for saying all this in e-mail form. Basically, she told me I was an idiot and needed to get a clue, just in much nicer terms. I immediately wrote her back thanking her for her concern and promised not to do it again. For all I know, she saved me from a very unfortunate encounter with the cops, or worse, a situation that would have put my boys in serious danger.

#3 The family with the 4 (now 5) kids are friends of mine. A neighbor reported them to Child Protective Services, who opened a file on them and came by for a surprise visit. When CPS showed up, they talked to my friend who home-schools her (very bright) children and thinks (like me) that it’s okay for little kids to run around barefoot. She mentioned that her husband is a Neuro-Psychologist who works for Harvard and that her kids are well-taken care of and well-loved. The case was closed.

So, now that you know the kind of hypocritical pansy I am, I want to know what you would have done.

What do you do when you see something happening to a child that worries you?

Do you jump right in and try to help, or hang back and mind your own business? (Or are you the snarky neighbor type who likes to stay anonymous?)

I’d love to hear what you all think! Just don’t tell me I’m an idiot, because I already know that!

Thanks for the soap-box Mrs. Dub!

Little Boogies

I don't mean to consistently make you feel bad by flaunting my family's bevy of talents - trust me, I feel plenty bad myself - but this is my sister's new children's clothing line, Little Boogies. Click here to check out their fabulous collection of onesies, shirts and prints. As for my talent: clicking on the different animal graphics. I'm, like, really fast at that. So maybe Mrs. Gee isn't the only star in this family.


* Lest you are worried, Boogies is not a reference to boogers. Read the charming story behind the name here. And then go pick your nose.

* Click here to see Miss Dub's modeling debut.

Pics, portable containers and pancakes

Isn't it funny what things you find yourself coveting when you visit others? For example, on our recent jaunt to Rhode Island, I found myself quite envious of the amount of Tupperware my SIL owns. Like, she has more than one cool container that is made to hold half an onion or tomato, or any bulbous object for that matter. I mean, all I gots is the standard Ziploc set, which I replace every year or so for a whoppin' $6.99. But now I feel like I must expand my collection. And start eating tomatoes.

Also, she and my BIL had an impressive command on breakfast foods. In our short time there, they made us french toast, eggs benedict, crepes and aebleskivers (a real word, though I wasn't totally convinced until I googled it this morning after Cichelli mentioned it yesterday). They're round pancakes, which are made in a special pan - which THEY OWN! I mean, c'mon! How is a girl supposed to keep up?

I can only imagine the cool Tupperware container they put their 'skivers in.

Reader roll call ... and clam dip?

A few of you (including Laurel) inquired about who comments on this bad blog.

You asked things like,
"Who are these people?"
"How you know them?"
"Who have you met in person?"
"Why do you smell like cabbage?"

And while I'm sure you've figured out that most are friends and family (or friend of friends and family), there are quite a few of you who I don't really know.

So why don't you all save my digits today and type up a short blurb on your connection to me, either in the real world or the virtual realm. If the latter, let us know how you stumbled on this here piece of madness. (My apologies by the way!)

Call it an early Christmas present for ol' M&M.

And, yes, all you lurkers, I at least expect you to say, "Hi!" I mean, you know that I didn't shower yesterday - By the way, I didn't shower yesterday - so I'd say you owe me a little personal information about yourselves.

It's going to be a regular party here today!

So who brought the clam dip?

HTT - Naked Edition

Once upon a time there was a girl named Mrs. Dub who used to fret over Hot Topics for Tuesdays because while she was quite passionate about a lot of things, she never knew what other people wanted to talk about and had a tendency to offend people when she really let loose with her opinion.

Enter kind M&M readers who began to suggest all sort of friendly topics for everyone to amicably discuss and brainstorm about together. And it made Mrs. Dub’s life, or at least her Tuesdays, infinitely better.

Today is another reader request that’s making me one step closer to happily ever after.

The topic is nudity, but we’re not talking about art. (Let’s just say I don’t mind me a nude sculpture or two.)

We’re talking about family modesty. Like, when do you stop letting your kids shower with you? And when do you make your skivvy-lovin’ kids cover up? How do you teach them the sanctity of their body when they’re young?

I can’t really speak to the matter yet since Miss Dub is the first person I see when I step out of the shower, and I wipe her rear every few hours ... so we’re still on an intimate level. But I know some of you are in the throes of this issue, and others have already implemented a system.

So I’ll leave it to you to dish your nude-a-licious advice.

Speaking hypothetically, I think I would stress the sacred nature of our bodies from an early age. And I would insist on modesty outside the home around age 3 or 4. Seeing parents naked would end around the same time, and any indoor exhibitionism would need to be squelched by kindergarten.

But what do I know? I’ve always liked layers.

What do you think?

Bear all.

simply family

As if you weren't reading enough blogs by my family, another member has joined the Blogger ranks. (For enquiring minds, this female member of the family gave birth to me, forever making her world a louder place.)

You can find her here at simplehappy home.

Unlike this here blog, hers has a definite theme - home design, quilting and simple living. Likewise, my sis' blog is dedicated to forms of transportation, like Vespas and one famous VW.

Apparently I'm the Jerry Seinfeld blogger in my family because my blog is about nothing, except maybe Target. And we all know they aren't going to pay me for my endorsements.

However, we all share a common love of run-on sentences and sarcasm. So apparently I wasn't switched at birth, thus debunking my childhood theory that I am a long-lost member of an exotic island's royal family - preferably, a really, really rich royal family, not so much a livestock-currency, tribal royal family.

(See what I mean about run-on sentences?)

Now, if we could only get Mrs. Gee to blog, if only to see adorable photos of Lil' Gee on a daily basis. Then again, if she gets a website, it better be for her fabulous cards, new business or culinary skillz. Like this recipe:

Caribbean Chicken and Black Bean Salad
Spicy Lime dressing (below)
2 c. cubed, cooked chicken
¼ c. chopped fresh cilantro
1 large tomato, chopped (1 cup)
1 medium avocado, chopped
1 small yellow squash, chopped
1 can (15 oz.) black beans, rinsed and drained
Leaf lettuce

* Make Spicy Lime dressing
* Toss remaining ingredients except lettuce in large bowl. Pour dressing over salad; toss. Serve on lettuce.

Spicy Lime Dressing
¼ c. lime juice

¼ t. ground cumin

¼ t. salt

½ t. chili powder
2 T. olive oil

1 T. honey

2 to 3 drops red pepper sauce

* Shake all ingredients in tightly covered container.

Big news, little bike

My sister recently came out of the closet.

No, not that closet.

This is a closet filled with tight leather, aviator sunglasses, studded belts and black gloves.

OK, maybe not that closet, either.

But if there's a closet filled with scarves, cute capris, and a Vespa - which is basically the Schwinn cruiser of motorized bicycles - then she just came out of it. (To our parents, though she's been openly Vespa-ed for a few weeks now to many of us. But since I had to respect her unnatural fear of them, I waited to share the big news rather than risk exposing her to my dearest Mommie.)

Oh yeah, and there's a blog in that closet. And it's really funny.




So if you want to read about my sister's adventures in Vespaland, go here. Frequently.

I must admit that I'm a bit reluctant to direct you her way as she was doled out more wit and writing talent than I got at birth. (Hey, she's the first - by the time I was born only diluted genetics were available.)

Also, she has a life and a Vespa, which are two things I'm working on. (I'm really not. Life and bikes scare me.)

But who am I to deny you the pleasure of reading humorous tales of my sister's Vespa trips, attempts to join/create a biker gang and plea for vanity plate suggestions?

Some things you just have to share.

Enjoy!

Picture pages

Twelve days,

three states

and a lot of

good food.

No, it’s not the proposed epitaph for my gravestone.

It's the shortest description of my über-fun trip to Utah and Arizona.

But since I’ve never been one for brevity, I’ll share a little more of my travels … tomorrow.

(Ha, look at me building suspense! Take that Angela Lansbury!)

For now, it’s all pics, all the time.

(And 60 percent of the time, it works every time!)

Comic Sans and cake

Just in case you might think I'm the wittiest person in my chock-full-o'-talent family, I bring you this email sent to me yesterday by my eldest sis, who happens to be one of the few right-brained lawyers in this great country of ours. (Yes, that was all one sentence.)

Fellow Fontofiles:

Okay, you must waste at least 10 mins of your precious day reading this.

But more importantly, you must read some of the blazing font opinions in the "comments" section at the end. My personal favorite, which comes early on, is:

Gareth, Beddoes, I use Comic Sans on my CV specifically to avoid working for people like you to whom presentation means more than content.

Ben, Phimai, Thailand

Is Ben the most white trash guy in all of Thailand, or is he a genius? When I was a high-schooler, I read an interview with one of the rocker chicks in L7 who said that she got tattoos on her hands in college to assure she would never have the kind of stuffy job where you're not allowed to have tattoos on your hands. It's kind of like Ben's theory I guess. At the time I thought it was brilliant. Now I think it is incredibly short-sighted to assume that at any one point in your life you're wise enough to determine what's best for you at all the remaining points in your life.

Note that the presentation-averse Ben wasted 12 minutes of his precious workday reading this silly presentation-related article and taking the time to comment. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate Comic Sans? I would rather do my resume in Stencil.

I mean, who doesn't loathe Comic Sans? (This is the part where the comments section fills up with pros and cons of Comic Sans and sans serifs in general.)

In case you love its early 90s appeal, I'll appease your anger with my promised low-fat German chocolate cake recipe, courtesy of Weight Watchers. (5 POINTS a piece!)

Upside-down German Chocolate Cake

Ingredients
5 large egg whites
½ cup fat-free sour cream
1 cup buttermilk
1/3 cup unsweetened applesauce
¾ cup packaged shredded coconut
¾ cup water
2/3 cup unpacked brown sugar
18.5 oz. German chocolate cake mix
1 sprays cooking spray
2 Tbsp. light butter
½ cup chopped pecans

Instructions
1.Preheat oven to 350ºF. Coat a 9- x 13-inch nonstick baking pan with cooking spray.

2. In a small saucepan over low heat, melt butter with water. Stir in brown sugar until smooth; pour evenly into baking pan. Sprinkle coconut and pecans evenly over melted sugar mixture.

3. In a large bowl, using an electric mixer set on high speed, beat egg whites for 30 seconds. Beat in buttermilk, sour cream and applesauce. Add cake mix and beat on low speed until moistened, about 30 seconds. Beat for an additional 2 minutes; pour into pan.

4. Bake for 40 minutes. Cool in pan on a rack. Cut into pieces and serve.